Monday, May 22, 2017

Moving

‘On the move”

A year ago,
Kay and I were sharing a table in Cracker Barrel with our friends the Plilers. As we waited for Radiance to
bring our cornbread and biscuits, I said, “Have you noticed how girls with
common names seldom get hired as waitresses?”

Kay picked
right up on that and said, “This time next year, Mark and I will be in a
different house.” – What? – That’s what I said, only with an exclamation mark.
-- “What!”

Kay
explained that for a few months she and I had been talking about buying a lot
and having a home built. Apparently, our discussions took place while I was
digging wax out of both ears at the same time. As soon as Kay discovered how
shocked I was, she began a subtle campaign geared at helping me see the light.

After 23 years in our house, the place
has become too big for us. We have too many rooms in which to enter without
knowing why. We’re too old to keep the
place tidy. Too much lawn to mow and flowerbeds to maintain. Plus, there’s a
good chance I’m going to fall down the stairs, forcing Kay to move without me.
I only hope that one of you will inform her second husband about her first
husband’s demise. – “Yes, he fell down the stairs using the back of his head to
help break his fall. Used it 18 times.”

Over the months, Kay did manage to
sway me a bit. It was during the dismantling of the jungle gym that I managed
to make my right knee turn in a direction that knees are not intended to go. Since
then, climbing the stairs has been a royal pain in the knee.

My horrible
limp did not keep me from going with Kay to find a lot for a home and a floor
plan we like. We immediately signed a commitment for the house. Starting date
for construction: August. -- Finishing date: November. After that, our
current house had a buyer in the first week of its posting. Charming couple… in
a big hurry to have us out of here. Out-of-here date: June 15.

Our
contract will not be signed until a few additional steps are taken. The first
step was a house inspection. The inspector got here at about 9:00 Wednesday morning,
and was still inspecting at lunchtime. I didn’t feed him lunch, you understand.
He was just here at lunchtime. Kay and I had our radio show to do, so we ended
up leaving before he did.

A very thorough man, Chad the
Inspector. Every faucet, wall plug, light switch, air vent, toilet, doorknob, window
latch... Chad went into places you don’t even want to know about. All the
while, he gave us no indication of his findings. He was cordial, nice, friendly
and professional. Way too professional. Not a hint. He was hintless. We won’t
know the results for days.

I wouldn’t
be worried were it not for the fact that we’ve got three weeks to get stuff out
of here. What if we manage to move out, only to find that the buyer’s mortgage
company refuses to loan money for a home with a cracked whatsit on our
thingamajig?

Kay is
packing as I speak. If you want to know something crazy, my family and friends
have all scheduled vacations for whenever we move. They won’t commit to a date,
but they each say they’re taking a trip to the panhandle of Idaho. They don’t even
have the decency to make up different vacationing spots.

Added to
our moving dilemma is the problem of finding a place to live for at least five
months. My sister Sue in Washington State says that Kay can live with her. I
can come, but only if I feel it totally necessary. A friend from church invited
the both of us to live in his guest room. A foolish man, Barry. By Day 3, he would
boot my buns right out of there. Probably get the church to disfellowship me.

The Plilers didn’t even offer to
keep us. The big problem with best friends is that they know you too well. Our
realtor said that between July and October we could live in her camping
trailer. I asked her how big it was and she said, “I don’t know. It’s a camping
trailer.” Five months in a camping trailer? Five months having to go to a
washateria; having to shower while sitting on a toilet; watching TV programs
that show stuff like a vet surgically removing a tennis ball from a St.
Bernard’s colon? I’d have to start watching TV on my phone. A phone that holds
a charge all of 20 minutes.

Tomorrow, we’ve got an appointment
with a leasing agent representing an apartment complex. I think here name is Oceania. No idea how she’ll react to
our request. – “We may or may not need an apartment in a couple of weeks. I
don’t want to pay anything to reserve the place, ‘cause we may not need it. I’m
just giving a warning that in a couple of weeks we may show up ready to move
into a unit on the ground floor. You know, due to my bum knee?

Yes, this is a problem that I never
saw coming. The worst kind. Regardless, it’s not like Kay and I didn’t talk this
over. It was a year ago this month. Radiance was carrying a plate of cornbread
and biscuits toward our table. I had just uttered, loudly enough for the those
at the surrounding tables to hear, “What!”